


after the battle

by TheThirteenthHour



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, I heard there weren't enough fics of Aqua getting off so here we are, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirteenthHour/pseuds/TheThirteenthHour
Summary: After all is said and done, Aqua can’t keep her hands off him.





	after the battle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WashiEaglewings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/gifts), [sophiecognito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiecognito/gifts).



After all is said and done—after Xehanort is gone for good and Ven is awake and Terra is finally, finally himself, brown haired and blue eyed again—after their wounds are healed (and honestly she wasn’t sure they could have even waited for that), Aqua can’t keep his hands off him.

It doesn’t take much. A moment alone, a glance, and something like lightning that passes between them. Something like need and love and even a little bit of fear, like this might be their only chance. Like it might all get snatched right out from under them again.

He’s warm and solid beneath her hands, and just the way he wraps his arms around her, the way his face comes close and his breath warms her cheeks— He makes her heart race. When he clamps his mouth over hers and she slides her tongue over his, all she can hear is her pulse in her hears. She feels the way he moans in her mouth, and she guides him almost instinctively to the bed.

It happens so quickly. Her hands at his belt, his hands under her shirt, and at some point just the heat of his bare body against hers. His torso beneath hers, his hands at her back and at her chest, squeezing gently but firmly. She moans softly and he breathes her name in between kisses he plants on her neck, on her shoulder, on her chest. His lips close around her nipple and she gasps his name.

It’s reflex, how she grinds them together. Involuntary, the way they groan. His hands and mouth pull away from her chest, and he holds her hips as close as he can. He presses up against her, grinds against her, and they fall into a rhythm so easily. 

There’s a moment, in between the gasps and the moans and the shy, loving moments of eye contact, that she realizes they’ve always known each other. For as long as she can remember, they’ve known each other. She knows his eyes, his smile, his voice, his will, his heart. And she knows his body, maybe more intimately than any years’ old sparring partner should.

She leans down and kisses him. They moan into each other’s mouths with each roll of their bodies, keeping time of their rhythm like a song.

One of his hands comes away from her, and he shifts beneath her, moving them both an inch or two closer to the edge of the bed. She knows. She hears the rattle of the nightstand drawer. 

They spend seconds apart while he puts the condom on, stealing little touches and kisses in between, but she wants so badly. She wants him in any and every way she can have him, and not just here. Not just dripping with lust. She wants every soft gaze, every beaming smile, every full-bodied laugh, every grain of strength and love that he has to offer, she wants to take every part of him and hold him close, keep him safe, guard him and love him with everything she has to give.

She wants to say that. Once the condom is on, she takes his face in her hands and looks into his blue, blue eyes. But she can’t find her words. Can’t remember how to voice that she’ll do anything to never lose him again.

His back is against the headboard now. His hands find her waist gently, and there’s a spark in his eyes that tells her he knows. That she doesn’t need to find the words. Especially not now. But she tells him anyway, with her lips firmly against his, and with the little bit of motion it takes to get right over him.

They moan into each other when he rubs against her.

She doesn’t mean to break the kiss with an even louder moan when he enters her.

She takes a moment to start, just to savor the feel of him inside her again after so long. But when she sees the hazy, loving look in his eyes and he squeezes her hips, she braces herself against his shoulders and quickens her pace out of need.

He kisses her hard, all teeth and tongue and like he can’t get enough of her, and she can’t get enough of him either. She doesn’t know how she manages to keep any kind of rhythm with him kissing him so sloppily, hands wandering everywhere, but she does.

She really doesn’t know how she manages when he rubs his thumb against her clit.

She whimpers and almost curls around him when he touches her, lightning running up her body. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders, and he’s always had a thing for that; he touches her faster, kisses her with a heavy breath, murmurs her name whenever his lips pull away from her skin, and if she didn’t feel so overwhelmed by him—by his presence, his touch, his kiss, his breath, his love, his everything—she’d murmur his name back.

It’s when the sound of her name dissolves into wordless moans that she knows.

She moans his name for him, grips his shoulders tighter, rides him faster—and his hand falters, his hips buck, his head falls to her shoulder. His entire body tenses beneath her with a thrillingly breathless moan that makes her slow just so she can witness it.

It’s when he lets out a heavy breath and his body relaxes that she brushes his hair back and whispers, “Are you okay?”

His arms tighten around her waist and he looks up at her. He smiles gently at her for a moment, bright, half-shut eyes gleaming at her like this is the first time he’s really seen her. (After so long not being himself, maybe it is.) He places his clean hand at the back of her neck, pulls her closer, and answers, “I love you...”

She kisses him. “I love you too.” And kisses him again.

It’s the way his other hand nudges her that prompts her. She lifts her hips, and he pulls out of her slowly, so agonizingly she almost tells him she wants him back inside her immediately. But his lips don’t let her speak and she doesn’t want to stop kissing him. They switch places gently, his strong hands almost cradling her as he guides her beneath her.

His mouth wanders as soon as she has her back on the mattress, trailing slow, wet, searing kisses down her neck, across her shoulders and chest, down her stomach...

He brushes his fingertips along her sides, down the outside and then the inside of her thighs. His palms push her legs farther apart.

And he pauses.

Tantalizing.

Like he just wants to hear her panting.

She’s about to say something when he looks up at her, and god, she’ll always melt whenever she sees that soft, hungry look he always gives her from between her legs.

His touch comes first, two fingers sliding over her clit so suddenly she gasps—and he smirks, of course.

“Good?” he asks.

She smiles, rests her head against the mattress, and says nothing.

He rubs his fingers against her, and already she’s breathing heavy, squirming at his touch, curling her fingers in the sheets.

She moans softly when his fingers enter her and— He barely gives her a chance to breathe. His mouth is hot on her and the sound that leaves her is so much louder than she means for it to be. And he loves it. His free hand cups her breast like a reward, thumb moving back and forth over her nipple.

She whimpers his name, reaches down with one hand to cradle the back of his head, holding him there as his fingers and tongue work her, as she twitches against him and bites back a plea for more, more.

He knows. She knows he knows. He laps her up. His tongue runs over just the right spot, and her breath hitches and she clenches a fist in his hair.

He still remember where to touch her, how to read her body to know when to slow down, when to speed up. So when she comes, she comes loudly. Desperately. And somehow, between the way she trembles, the way she tugs at his hair, and the way her thighs squeeze him, she feels him hum against her. His fingers move slowly inside her, and he presses his tongue tight against her clit, easing her down, waiting for her shudders to slow and stop. For her fists to loosen. For her fingers to brush his hair back lovingly again.

When she’s calm, he pulls his fingers out and takes one last, thorough lick like he’s cleaning up after her—but really he just wants one last shudder. He gets it, without her even trying.

He looks up at her and licks his lips almost proudly. ”Good?” he asks again. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he kisses her thighs and stomach.

“Yeah,” she breathes.

She smiles as he kisses his way up to her face and giggles when he plants a bunch of little ones on her cheeks. What rings through her is peaceful and warm and reminds her of so much she almost doesn’t want to think about it.

He doesn’t give her the chance to, thankfully, bringing her back to the present and back to him now with a kiss that tastes like herself. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls away just long enough to say, “I love you so much, Terra.”

She kisses him so much he barely gets out the words, “I love you so much too, Aqua.”


End file.
